The Fight
by bj
Summary: S/J slash (my first). An undisclosed incident causes a running cute ass joke, misunderstandings, and general mayhem.


Author's note: Um, well, I've never written slash before, so forgive any lack of quality. The story is not quite as funny as it was when it came to me in a dream, I'm not sure why. All credit for the last line goes to my brother, The Dude (aka my comic inspiration). Enjoy.  
  
The Fight or West Wing Side Story  
by BJ Garrett  
  
"Smart ass!" Sam shouted, pulling on his coat violently.  
  
"At least mine's not just cute," Josh returned heatedly from where he stood beside the couch.  
  
Sam clenched his jaw, sticking his nose in the air, and slammed the door behind him. As he exited Josh's apartment building, a light drizzle began to fuzz the street around him. He swore loudly, remembering that he'd left his umbrella at the office. The unseasonal drizzle rendered the milky orange light of the streetlamps useless, and he did not relish the long walk home alone. Slowly, several indistinct white shapes fell from above, buffeted gently by the wind. Realising that the shapes were actually two years' slow accumulation of Jockeys, he looked up at Josh's window.  
  
Seeing Josh leaning over the sill, letting another pair drift down towards their owner, Sam yelled, "Real mature, Lyman!"  
  
Josh emptied a drawer of freshly-pressed shirts and slacks out the window onto Sam's head.  
  
*  
  
The next morning they spied each other across the lobby and glared daggers.  
  
"Good morning, Joshua," Sam said stiffly as they met at the entrance to the West Wing.  
  
Josh nodded curtly and tried to move past Sam, who did the same. In retaliation, Josh quickened his pace, which led to a near-jog from Sam.  
  
And so they made it to their offices. Out of breath, sure, but with pride intact. For now.  
  
Donna was intrigued. "What's going on?" she asked Josh before she briefed him on the day's schedule.  
  
"Nothing," he replied, throwing his coat at the rack.  
  
Donna picked it up and hung it, as she always did, before persisting. "You're mad at Sam."  
  
"No, I'm not."  
  
She rolled her eyes and told him where he had to be, when he had to be there, and what he had to say to the other people who would be there. When she finished, she folded her hands in her lap and asked gently, "What's wrong?"  
  
Josh looked at her and repeated slowly, "Nothing."  
  
Getting the hint, Donna nodded and backed away. "Okay, okay. I'm going to talk to Cathy now."  
  
His voice was firm, absolute. "No."  
  
Shaken, she stared at him from the doorway. "What?"  
  
"You're not talking to Sam."  
  
"I don't want to talk to Sam. I'm want to talk to Cathy."  
  
"When you said Cathy, you meant Sam."  
  
"Don't you tell me what I meant, Joshua. When I said Cathy, I meant Cathy."  
  
"Donna--" he broke off his reply, looking away. "Don't call me Joshua."  
  
Donna put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. "You'd better tell me what's going on."  
  
"Nothing. Go talk to Cathy."  
  
She nodded bewilderedly and stepped out of the office. As she closed the door, they added in unison, "But not to Sam."  
  
*  
  
Cathy was sitting in her office, typing madly when Donna walked in. The other assistant looked up and then past Donna at Sam's office. "Okay, you can come in," Cathy whispered, pulling her in and closing the door behind her.  
  
"What's going on?" Donna asked.  
  
Cathy shrugged. "I haven't got a clue, but Sam said I shouldn't talk to you."  
  
"He's being unreasonable. At least Josh is letting me speak to you."  
  
Nodding, Cathy continued, "And he said I can't even go over there. It's stupid. How am I supposed to talk to Carol? Or CJ?"  
  
Donna shook her head and propped her chin in her hand.  
  
Sam burst in, causing her to jump out of her seat and hit her head on the corner of a shelf. "Ow!"  
  
"What are you doing here, Moss?" he demanded, holding the door open.  
  
Clutching her head, Donna replied, "Getting injured by unreasonable people who are fighting with Josh."  
  
"I'm not being unreasonable," he grumbled before turning on Cathy. "Didn't I tell you not to talk to her?"  
  
"Yes, master," Cathy replied, ushering Donna out of the office. "I'll just leave her out in the hallway to bleed to death."  
  
Sam called an aide over and told him to take Donna to First Aid. Then he re-entered his office, proclaiming, "I am not being unreasonable!"  
  
*  
  
Toby was the next to notice.  
  
After several irritated glances through their glass wall, he walked over and grabbed Sam's pencil from his hand.  
  
Shocked, Sam looked up. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked.  
  
Toby replied by bouncing the eraser end of the pencil on Sam's desk, producing a loud rubbery noise.  
  
After a few seconds, Sam took the pencil back. "Quit it. That's extremely annoying."  
  
Responding with silence again, Toby returned to his office. The loud rubbery noise recommenced within moments. He rolled his eyes heavenward.  
  
*  
  
"He hit you with a door?" Josh asked, aghast. "I knew he was being unreasonable, but that's beyond even Sam's capability."  
  
Head half-covered with an ice-pack, Donna replied, "No, Josh. He opened the door. I was surprised, and I jumped up, hitting my head on a shelf. It's not Sam's fault. Though he is being unreasonable."  
  
Seeming not to hear her, Josh poked a finger at the ceiling. "You are not to speak to him, Donna!"  
  
"You already said that."  
  
Josh continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Nor are you to speak to Cathy!"  
  
"Now who's being unreasonable, Joshua?" she said petulantly.  
  
He glared at her. "I'm not being unreasonable. Only one person is being unreasonable in this situation, and it is not me." After a moment, he added, "It's Sam."  
  
Donna nodded wearily. "You've been friends for a long time. I really think you two should make up. This isn't healthy."  
  
Suddenly very intense, Josh grabbed her shoulders. "What did he say about make-up? That litte twerp..."  
  
Donna shook her head and broke free. "He didn't say anything about make-up. I said you *should* make up. Like apologise or whatever? Isn't it silly to let something petty come between you?"  
  
"It's not petty."  
  
She leaned forward. "What is it, then?"  
  
Catching on to her game, he persed his lips and replied, "It's private."  
  
"*Pri*vate or just private?"  
  
"*Pri*vate. Yes." She was giving him a petulant look. He crossed his arms and repeated, "*Pri*vate."  
  
*  
  
After a short conversation with Cathy at the kitchenette--the unspoken no-man's-land of the fight--CJ entered Toby's office determinedly. "You always know what's going on," she said. "What's going on?"  
  
Toby shook his head and cocked it at the glass window, through which one could see Sam bouncing that pencil off the blotter for all he was worth. "He's been doing that all morning. I wish he'd stop."  
  
On the edge of making a comment about red rubber balls, CJ reined herself in, deciding that the battle royale at hand was enough for one day. "Not all morning. He managed to concuss Donna at some point."  
  
"Is that even a word?"  
  
"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is that Donna has a very bad headache and Josh is calling for blood, Old Testament-style, and nobody knows why the hell they're fighting."  
  
Toby covered his face with his hands and rubbed slowly. He muttered something between his fingers, and wise Claudia Jean exited the office.  
  
Sam did not look up from his bouncing pencil when she suddenly appeared in his doorway.  
  
"You're tearing this office apart," CJ said sternly. "Quit it."  
  
"No, I'm not. My office is in perfect condition." He bounced the pencil particularly high. "See? That's the elasticity only genuine leather can provide."  
  
Sighing, she amended, "I mean the West Wing, of course."  
  
"Are you implying that I'm not intelligent?" he asked, looking up at her. "Because I can assure you I'm not only cute, I'm damn smart too." He tapped his head with the pencil.  
  
Raising her eyebrows, CJ shook her head. "Not to argue the point, but I didn't say you weren't smart, Sam."  
  
He subsided and started bouncing the pencil again.  
  
"Why can't Cathy go past the kitchenette?"  
  
"*He's* over there."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
CJ cleared her throat. "Well, don't you think you're being a tad bit--"  
  
"Unreasonable?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No. I am not being unreasonable, he's being irrational. Completely and utterly irrational. Worse than usual."  
  
"Okay. That makes perfect sense. I'll just take that to Leo, then." CJ turned to go, frustrated beyond belief. In this situation, one would ask oneself, 'Isn't maturity a pre-requisite for government employment?'  
  
One would, obviously, be wrong.  
  
"Leo?" Sam asked, sitting up in his seat. "What does Leo have to do with anything?"  
  
CJ folded her hands. "I'm tattling on you and Josh."  
  
Sam nearly laughed, until he saw the look on her face. "Isn't that a tad bit--"  
  
"Immature?"  
  
"Well, yes."  
  
"Yes. It fits the situation very nicely, I must say. Good day, Sam."  
  
*  
  
Donna was holding the wall with one hand and clutching a file folder in the other when Josh found her. She was two feet past the kitchenette.  
  
"Where do you think you're going, Moss?"  
  
She swallowed and turned. "Delivering a file."  
  
"To whom, may I ask?" Of course, he had his suspicions, but if one can't trust one's assistant, who can one trust?  
  
She thought a moment. A moment which damned her. "Leo?"  
  
He didn't believer her. They both realised it at the same moment. "Why don't you go around the long way?"  
  
They locked gazes for a second, then she broke away and rolled her eyes. "Because it's the long way, Josh. I have a headache."  
  
"Get an aide to do it. That's what we pay them for."  
  
Donna knitted her eyebrows together with both anger and pain. "I'm taking this file to Leo."  
  
"No, you're not."  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"No."  
  
They were both prepared to argue it in monosyllables for the rest of the day, but Donna said, "Someone has to take it."  
  
Forgetting what the whole situation was caused by, Josh took the file and stepped past Donna into Communications. "I'll do it."  
  
He had strode past Toby's office before he even realised with he was doing. He was past Sam's office before he remembered why no one from his side of the Wing was supposed to go to Sam's side of the Wing.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Lyman?" Sam asked calmly, coming out of his office with his hands on his hips.  
  
Deciding to play it cool, Josh turned around. "Delivering a file to Leo."  
  
"Uh huh." The story wasn't washing, Josh could tell. "You're on my turf, Lyman."  
  
"What?"  
  
"My turf. Get back to--to...wherever it is you work. Down the hall. Go back down the hall where you belong." When Josh didn't leave, he pointed stiffly. "Go."  
  
"Isn't it Toby's turf, Sam?"  
  
Thrown, Sam dropped his arm. However, the petty delineation of superior/inferior seemed moot at the moment. "That's not the point."  
  
"What is the point?"  
  
"This is Communications. You don't belong here."  
  
"I'm delivering a file to Leo."  
  
"Go the long way."  
  
They were drawing a crowd, and their voices were steadily gaining volume. Josh looked around. Toby had come out of his office and was glaring at them from the inner edge of a circle of fascinated-looking office staff. The top of Donna's head could clearly be seen, mostly because of the large white towel she had wrapped the ice pack in. Beside her loomed CJ, teeth gritted. Sam was too far gone, however, to notice the spectators.  
  
Josh said calmly, "Look, how about you take it to him and I'll go back to my office over there, okay?"  
  
Looking deeply offended, Sam did not take the proffered file, but said, "Are you saying I'm as good as office staff?"  
  
Confused, Josh shook his head. "No. I'm saying you can take the file to Leo if you don't want me in your sandbox."  
  
Sam threw up his hands. "So now I'm a child!"  
  
"You are being considerably less mature than I am," Josh replied, crossing his arms over the file. He felt the crowd would agree with him on this point, and he wasn't wrong.  
  
Pointing at him, Sam said between clenched teeth, "You threw my personal items out the window."  
  
Josh coloured, and shrugged. "I asked you to take your personal items home three weeks ago. I'm having the apartment re-decorated."  
  
"That doesn't mean you can throw them out the window! They're now unwearable!"  
  
"It's not as if you wear them anyway."  
  
The crowd and Sam gasped in unison. Then the crowd and Josh gasped as Sam socked him one in the face. Caught off gaurd, Josh stumbled over a little, then regained his balance.  
  
"That was low, Seaborn," he rasped. He threw the folder away, catching Sam's eye away from his right hand, and sucker-punched him.  
  
Sam clutched his stomach as Josh wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. A murmur went through the audience, as well as the quiet rustle of money changing hands.  
  
"Well, then, boys, I think you both need a time out," CJ said authoritatively, shooing the crowd away. She then ushered Sam and Josh into Sam's office and shut the door. Donna tried to go after them, but CJ held her back, saying, "They need to work this out on their own."  
  
*  
  
Sam pulled down the shutter over the glass wall while Josh took care of the one above the door. A moment later they faced each other across Sam's desk.  
  
"You embarrassed me," Sam muttered, staring at the floor.  
  
Josh started chuckling. He doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. Irritated, Sam walked over and kicked him gently in the shin. "What the hell's so funny?"  
  
"This is stupid," Josh replied on a gasp, backing up to lean against the wall. "We're fighting over nothing."  
  
"It's not nothing," Sam insisted. "You embarrassed me, not just today, but at the dinner too."  
  
Spreading his hands with an innocent expression, Josh said, "I made a joke!"  
  
Sam snorted.  
  
Josh started laughing again.  
  
Sam stalked to his desk and slammed his hands on it.  
  
Josh stopped laughing.  
  
Focussing on the corner of his blotter he had written Josh's name on in code about a million times, Sam said quietly, "This is getting us nowhere. Neither of us are prepared to act like mature adults, though whether or not we are is certainly a matter for debate, and work this out."  
  
After a second, Josh wiped his mouth again and crossed his arms. "So we're, you know..."  
  
Sam looked sideways at Josh. "Should we?"  
  
Clearing his throat, Josh shrugged. They both thought about the chaos they had created today.  
  
"If things are this bad--"  
  
"--when we're only fighting..."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They both looked down and contemplated the destruction. Simultaneously, they shook their heads and looked at each other.  
  
"Perhaps for the good of the West Wing, nay, the Presidency," Sam said expansively, straightening*, "We should reconsider our differences."  
  
Josh nodded enthusiastically. "For the good of the Presidency."  
  
Sam nodded back. "Definitely." He moved towards Josh, who came away from the wall, and they hugged tightly for a long moment. Sam lifted up the shade over the glass wall, revealing Toby mauling his little red ball nervously, and Josh snapped back the blinds on the door. A minute flurry of activity settled into the quiet cubicle farm of Communications.  
  
They stepped out of the office, and heads popped up like gophers peeking from their holes. The West Wing seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief as Sam and Josh shook hands warmly.  
  
"You owe me," Toby muttered to CJ as they went back to their offices.  
  
"Bite me, baldy."  
  
"I do arms and legs for free, but anywhere else you'll have to pay me."  
  
The End  



End file.
